Gundam High (Not That Crack Kind of High!)
by Ace of Hearts
Summary: They've survived terrorist missions, self-destruct plans gone wrong, and public humiliation by the media. But when a new law is passed amongst the countries of the World Nation, can the Wild Wing Boys survive...high school?!
1. Prologue

**~ Gundam High (Not That Crack Kind of High!)**

It was a gorgeous autumn day. The gold and red leaves swayed scenically on the tall, elegant trees lining the driveway of the Winner Estate where the G-boys were staying at. Heero Yuy was hacking away at his laptop, eyes glued to the flickering blue monitor, and one had to wonder just why Heero hadn't gone blind yet--or at the very least, extremely nearsighted. Duo Maxwell, in typical Duo fashion, was raiding the pantry for chips and dips, hopping around impatiently to make sure he didn't miss the football game. After all, commercial breaks could only last so long. Trowa Barton was...being Trowa. He was stretching by the glass sliding doors, silent as usual, while Quatre Raberba Winner read contentedly in front of the fireplace. Wufei was off in his shrine-like bedroom, meditating and making the others wonder how he could still be conscious in a closed room filled with incense--much like how Heero could stare at a computer screen all day and still have better than perfect eyesight. Hmm...*insert eerie X-Files music here*. 

Just then, there was the shrill sound of a doorknob ringing, and Quatre glanced around to see who would answer it. Heero was hacking away, Duo was glued to the widescreen TV, Trowa was still stretching, and Wufei...well, he didn't really want to know what exactly Wufei was doing in that shrine-like, incense-filled room of his. Sighing and reluctantly closing his book, Quatre got off the velvet couch by the fireplace and shuffled over to the door, wondering who could possibly be visiting them. He gulped as a sudden thought filled his mind. It couldn't be one--or all--of his twenty-nine sisters...could it? Dragging his feet, Quatre reluctantly made his way over to the front door and cracked it open an inch, immediately backing away. However, much to Quatre's immense relief, he wasn't tackled back by a herd of perfumed women and smooched and pinched all over his face. Instead, a single woman stood at the doorstep, far too old to be any one of his sisters. Clearing his throat and putting his best smile on his face, Quatre asked politely, "May I help you, ma'am?" 

The middle-aged woman standing at the doorstep peered at him disapprovingly behind black-rimmed glasses, not a single graying hair out of place from her dark brown bun. Dressed in a gray business suit and tacky blue shoes, she glanced down at the clipboard in her hand and asked haughtily, "Are you by any chance Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre...Rab...Rebabb...um, Quatre R. Winner, or Chang Wufei?" Ignoring the way she had completely butchered his middle name, Quatre identified himself sweetly, innocent as ever. The woman, however, didn't seem much affected by his cuteness, and instead harrumphed, "I'm here to inform you and Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, and Chang Wufei that all five of you are underage, and thus have to go back to school. A new law has just been passed on the World Nation, stating that all adolescents under the age of eighteen cannot legally drop out and must attend school."   
Quatre's mouth dropped open. His lips moved, but in his shocked state no sound came out, and he wound up doing a dying fish imitation.   
"But...but...but..." he stammered, sounding like a broken recorder. How could this be? Quatre Raberba Winner had a whole empire to run! He didn't have time to waste on re-learning information he already possessed.   
"You will report to Infinity Academy in Greenwich, Connecticut at eight o' clock sharp next Monday morning," the social worker continued, ignoring his outburst.   
"But...but...but..." Quatre sputtered out, on the verge of hyperventilating.   
"If by any chance you do not show up, you will all be arrested and sent to the prison school. That is all." And with that, the social worker pivoted on her heels and left, leaving behind a sputtering Quatre doing a dead fish imitation. 

"Hey Q-man, who was that old chick and what did she want?"   
Three guesses as to who shouted that out. Duo had somehow been pried away from the television screen upon taking notice of Quatre's fish imitation. Quatre turned around slowly, and swallowed hard, before taking a fluffy, overstuffed pillow to shield himself and prepared to give his fellow G-boys the bad news. 

* * *

**Eight a.m. Monday, Greenwhich, Connecticut**

Heero arrived first at the Infinity Academy, and looked up critically at the tall, modern high school with cold cobalt-blue eyes. He then hopped out of the stolen ambulance, flicking away the glass shards that fell on his shoulder when he slammed the door that sported the broken window, and stood outside, studying his schedule sheet.   
"Hn," the former pilot of Wing Zero grunted to himself, and scrunched up his eyebrows. Just exactly what was Home Economics? 

He didn't have time to ponder that for long, as his ears were assaulted by the loud sounds of Limp Bizkit blasting at ninety decibels. Hardly fazed at all by the loud rap music, the ruggedly handsome boy turned around and saw Duo jump out of a sleek red Ferrari driven by a sexy blonde with her breasts practically spilling out of the electric pink tube top she was wearing. Heero's eyebrows twitched slightly. Apparently, Duo had hitched a ride with a stranger again, as in the back of his mind Heero wondered why all of the strangers just conveniently 'happened' to be skimpily-clad strippers. But there was no time to ponder over that subject, as the ripped-blue-jeans-and-black-leather-clad Duo came rushing over to him and chirped brightly, "Hey there, man, what's your first class? Mine's Sex Education! Isn't that awesome?" Heero's eyebrows scrunched up. Just what exactly was this sex thing that Duo seemed so excited about, anyway? 

Again, Heero didn't have time to ponder over his thoughts, as Trowa arrived, riding on a male lion and scaring the hell out of everyone on campus. Oblivious to the panicked squawks and stampedes springing up around him, Trowa got off his lion and petted him, then gave an unseen signal as the lion obediently trotted off, allowing the ear-shattering screeches and mad pushing and shoving to stop. Trowa joined the two G-boys in front of the school, holding a slip of paper in his hands with an expression of almost distaste on his face. Duo and Heero found out soon enough, when they spotted the words Speech and Drama printed boldly on Trowa's schedule sheet. 

Soon after Trowa had arrived and succeeded in nearly emptying out the school, a white stretch limo leisurely pulled up at the curb and the chauffeur, an elegant redhead in a stylish black outfit, got out of the car and sprinted over to hold the door open. As Duo ogled his red-haired chauffeur, Quatre shyly got out of the limo, having brushed out all the goose feathers from his hair, before trotting over to the waiting G-boys in front of the school. He kept on darting worried glances at his schedule sheet, angelic pale face frowning nervously.   
"So Quatre, what's your first class?" Duo asked cheerfully. His face brightened as he asked, "Hey, do you have Sex Ed. too?"   
Quatre's face drained of all color (which was pretty hard to do considering how pale he was), as he cried out, mortified, "Dear God, they teach _that_ in school?" At Duo's devilish grin, Quatre could only assume the worst, before quickly crossing himself, thanking whoever was out there that he didn't have to take Sex Education.   
"No seriously, Winner, what's your first class?" Duo persisted. A shadow flickered across Quatre's face, as he mumbled dejectedly, "Wrestling." 

"The Great Chang Wufei has arrived. Now all of you weaklings can proceed on into school," a haughty voice squawked, as Wufei strutted over to join the quartet in front of the school, having walked thirty miles to Greenwich. As he strutted down the sidewalk, he took time to gaze over his schedule sheet, and his face darkened as he thundered indignantly, "What? The Great Chang Wufei does not play housewife! How dare the student administration make him take Home Economics and Sewing?!" Heero looked up in interest, being as he also had to take this Home Economics course that Wufei was rambling about, and tried to ask Wufei just exactly what one was supposed to do in Home Economics. Or Sex Education. He had that class right before lunch. However, Wufei was already well into one of his justice rants, and Heero wasn't able to squeeze in a single word. Didn't matter much anyway, as just then the bell rang. The G-boys parted ways, Heero and Wufei off to Home Economics, Duo happily skipping his way to Sex Education, Trowa walking at a somewhat slower than normal pace to Speech and Drama, and Quatre dragging his feet as he headed off toward Wrestling. 


	2. First Day Jitters

Room 666 was massive, divided off into numerous mini-kitchens which served as workstations for two people. Heero and Wufei were assigned to the cubicle nearest the front, seeing as they were a couple of the very few males snared into Home Ec. Class, and were now impatiently waiting for their teacher to show up. What in the world could be keeping her, anyway? She was almost fifteen minutes late! Wufei snorted irritably to himself, mumbling about the injustice about having to wait on a weak woman. Heero, surprisingly, wasn't so much pissed as he was confused. Even after seeing all the cooking utensils and unlit stoves surrounding him, he'd still somehow managed to avoid putting two and two together, and figure out that Home Economics was just a fancy name for cooking. As Heero studied all the shiny instruments and unlit fires, an idea suddenly occurred to him. The former terrorist brightened considerably, as he decided that this must be a class about making homemade bombs. 

A good fifteen minutes later, the doors to the classroom finally slammed open, and a tall, middle-aged woman who looked much younger than her years tottered into the room on thin spiked heels. Her poofy red hair and air of cheap perfume instantly made Wufei shudder. It made Heero confused, when he realized that his bomb instructor was what appeared to be a housewife, before he considered the idea that this was all just a very clever disguise. A very clever disguise, indeed, Heero decided, as he watched the red-haired teacher take a lazy puff of the cigarette in her hand.   
"Hi, kids," the teacher called out brightly. "I'm Mrs. Bundy, and I will be your teacher for this...this...whatever this class is supposed to be."   
A short black kid with plaid pants pulled up to his nipples by red suspenders and huge wire-rimmed glasses called out smartly, "It's called Home Economics, Mrs. Bundy. You're supposed to teach us how to cook and clean."   
Mrs. Bundy looked appalled by the very thought of doing just that. A funny, tense smile guiltily crossed her features, as she tee heed out, "Well, we'll just see about that." 

* * *

Meanwhile, way over in Room 3.00, Trowa was seated stiffly in his seat, waiting for the Speech and Drama teacher to make his dramatic entrance. The students lounging around the room were chattering animatedly, apparently none strangers to either speech or drama, gesturing energetically while they spoke. They reminded Trowa of Duo...a room full of male and female versions of Duo. Long-haired and short-haired, pale-skinned and dark-skinned, blonde and brunette, tall and short...Yeah. If he just squinted one eye a little, and left the one underneath his massive shock of bronze-colored bangs alone, Trowa mused, all of his classmates would look just like Duo--even the girls. 

Just then, the lights of the room snapped off with a start, plunging the entire classroom in darkness. As the students murmured out their protests, heavy metal music started playing, and the distinctive silhouette of a person could be seen, outlined in the doorframe. The figure turned around as the music continued to play, and the lights went back on. Despite having half his face covered by his hair, Trowa's vision was still perfectly fine, and with that perfectly fine vision the former pilot of Heavyarms could see a rugged, muscular man in his late twenties, with long, dark blonde hair and a scrag of a beard, wearing an open silver shirt over very, very shiny black pants. However, Trowa was Trowa and not Duo, and thus did not get distracted by the shiny object. Instead, he turned his attention to the muscular blonde teacher of Speech and Drama as said teacher turned off the little handheld tape recorder which had dramatically played his entrance music, and whipped out a microphone from behind his back.   
"All right, juniors, welcome to Speech and Drama is Jericho!" he began in an arrogant voice that just sounded plain mean to Trowa's ears. "My name is Mr. Jericho, and if you little assclowns would please SHUT THE HELL UP, then I can get this Speech and Drama course started, right here, right now, in the middle of this ring--I mean, classroom!"   
Trowa blinked. It was going to be a long--not to mention both insulting and noisy--class that lied ahead of him. 

* * *

On the east side of Infinity Academy where the Health and Family Life classrooms were located, Duo Maxwell was bouncing around in his seat like a hyperactive, braided howler monkey, nearly pulling his hair out in anticipation as he eagerly awaited for Sex Education to start. Much to the American ex-pilot's disappointment, however, the man who would be teaching Sex Ed. apparently wasn't planning on coming out anytime soon, as Duo glanced impatiently at his watch and frowned, noticing that after thirty seconds it would mark the forty-fifth minute anniversary of his Sex Ed. teacher and the bathroom. 

Finally, Duo heard a loud flushing sound, and the teacher came out with a newspaper tucked under one arm, an average-looking, somewhat stooped middle-aged man with thinning dark brown hair. Duo's hand almost instinctively went to his nose, as he noted with displeasure that his Sex Ed. teacher reeked. And extreme foot odor was a major turn-off for pretty much everyone--and that included Duo. Either way, foot odor and reek-ness, Duo was going to have to cope with that, as his teacher introduced himself.   
"All right, class," he began, as he started walking down the aisles and handing down bananas to all the students. "My name is Mr. Bundy, and for some reason I'll never understand, I'll be your Sex Education teacher for the next one-hundred-and-seventy-nine days."   
A hand shot up.   
"What is it?" Mr. Bundy asked irritably, continuing to hand out bananas.   
"Yeah, Mr. Bundy? My name's Duo, Duo Maxwell," Duo began. "I was just wondering...will you just be teaching us about sex, or will you be bringing in special guests to demonstrate how it's done?"   
Mr. Bundy looked at his extroverted student as if he were nuts, before shrugging and muttering, "How should I know; I always try to avoid doing it whenever I can."   
"But surely you must teach us about something--" Duo persisted. Mr. Bundy placed down a banana on his desk.   
"Actually, I will," he murmured, and headed off to the front of the classroom. Duo, meanwhile, had failed to hear what he'd said, as he peered at the banana greedily. _Yum,_ he thought to himself, _I haven't had a classroom snack since I was just a little bitty Shinigami in kindergarten!_

While Duo peeled open the banana, Mr. Bundy took out a small paper packet, but before he could do anything, a very familiar called out innocently, "But Mr. Bundy, what will we need moist towelettes for?", taking notice of said paper packet. Mr. Bundy again gave Duo that What-are-you-crazy? look, before shrugging it off and turning to face the class.   
"Now," he began, tearing open the little paper packet with the 'moist towelette' in it and holding up the stick of banana, "The way you put on a--"   
Mr. Bundy was promptly interrupted by loud chomping sounds, as he and the rest of the class turned around as one to see Duo greedily finishing off his banana. The braided American must have sensed something was up, because he looked innocently at all the staring eyes fixed on him. Cheeks stuffed with mushed bananas, Duo mumbled through a mouthful of banana paste, "What? What did I do?"   
Mr. Bundy wearily raked a hand through his thin brown hair.   
"Well apparently, you've just eaten the chance you've got at populating the Earth with little Duos," he muttered grumpily. 

* * *

Toward the center of the school lied the Gym, which had just been remodeled earlier that year, and which now housed a class of youths clad in ash gray sweatshirts over white Infinity T-shirts and matching sweatpants. Quatre sat in the middle of the group, tensely plucking at his tacky gray sweatpants and waiting for the coach of the wrestling team to arrive. Unlike his unluckier fellow G-boys, however, the blonde Arabian didn't have to wait for long, as the wrestling coach promptly made his grand appearance inside the gym as soon as the bell rang. He was a muscular, dark-haired man in his early thirties, with sky-blue eyes and a goofy smile on his face. Decked out in a navy-blue Olympic sweatsuit and with an array of gold medals hanging proudly around his neck, the wrestling teacher chirped brightly, "Hi! My name's Coach Angle, and I'm going to be teaching you how to wrestle! It's true, it's true" 

Quatre watched his wrestling coach nervously, but for the moment Coach Angle appeared perfectly content to just talk.   
"And before any of you say anything," the coach was rambling, "No, wrestling isn't just grown men in their underwear faking punches at each other. That's professional wrestling, anyway. What I'm going to be teaching you is amateur wrestling, and believe me, it won't include flying all over the ring and hitting each other with steel chairs. Oh, it's true, it's true..."   
Quatre sighed. Make that rant endlessly, he silently corrected himself, as he fought to keep from tuning out Coach Angle's words.   
"Now, as you may all have noticed, I am wearing genuine gold medals around my neck," the coach was saying. "One of these is an Olympic gold medal I won in freestyle wrestling about five years ago. It's true, it's true. It was a tough job, but with my three I's--Intensity, Integrity, and Intelligence--I managed to make my dreams come true and become an Olympic champion. And it wasn't easy to do. Oh, no, I had to wrestle all over the world to get more practice. In fact, there was this one time when I flew to Russia..." 

**Fifty Minutes Later...**

"...And that is how I won my Olympic gold medal, despite my broken neck, it's true, it's true." Coach Angle finally seemed to have finished his rant. He then glanced around at his trainees--most of which had fallen asleep or were on the verge of doing so. Irritated, the coach blew sharply on his whistle, waking up all of his pupils.   
"All right, boys," he began. "Let's begin your first day of wrestling!"   
Quatre got up, somewhat at ease. Despite his tendency to ramble, Coach Angle had come off as a rather nice, somewhat naive man, and he didn't feel quite as intimidated as he did at the beginning of the class.   
"Now, I want your first wrestling experience to be the same as that of my overwhelming Olympic medal victory," Coach Angle was saying. He then suddenly whipped out a sledgehammer, and pointed at Quatre and another boy. "Why don't you two come on up here so that I can break both your necks and you can begin wrestling each other for this fake gold medal?" 


	3. Cooking With The Walking Time Bomb And M...

Heero stared, dumbfounded, at the bag of flour and containers of sugar and pink frosting in front of him, eyes wide and mouth open. Standing grumpily beside him was Wufei, with steam practically shooting of his ears when he learned that for his first assignment, he and Heero would be making a very girly sugar cake, complete with pink icing and little red flower frosting on the side. The two G-boys stood next to each other in front of the counter, decked out in identical frilly pink aprons with lacy edges and poofy white chef's hats. I'm The Chef, So Kiss Me! was scrawled in red Magic Marker across Heero's pink apron, while Wufei's coyly sported Come And Get It, Boys!   
"Now, the gist of this whole thing is simple," Mrs. Bundy was saying in the front of the room. "You kids make all this food, and try not to blow up the kitchen while you're at it. Then, I'll take all the food home and give it a grade, before checking it for poison and then eating all of it. Got it? Good." And then the Home Ec. teacher promptly settled into a chair, watching Oprah on her tiny handheld television. 

The rest of the class quickly got to work, and the sounds of chopping, mixing, slicing, and dicing resounded loudly against the walls of the Home Ec. class. The only duo that wasn't working was Heero and Wufei--the former had apparently gone into shock when Mrs. Bundy thrust a mixing spoon into his hand, the latter still fuming and grumbling about having to become a weak, womanly housewife. Meanwhile, over in the next cubicle, two girls were frantically mixing batter for cookies, and as one of them churned a large chunk of icky, gooey batter went flying through the air, and landed with a squishy splat right in Heero's hair.   
"My hair! Omae o korosu!"   
That was all that Heero needed to snap him out of his pre-cooking-induced daze, as the former gundam pilot prepared to chase after the hapless girls. Several gunshots rang out, none of which hit their target due to the fact that the batter in Heero's hair was clouding his normally better than perfect vision, and several of the Home Ec. students leaned back in shock as one's lemon meringue pie blew up in his face while another's roast lamb, fresh out of the oven, was set violently aflame. Meanwhile, Wufei, who was already blue in the face from ranting so much without pausing to take a breath, promptly passed out cold from lack of oxygen. 

Twenty minutes and several 911 calls later, Heero and Wufei, heavily sedated, were happily back at their cubicle, making a complete mess of the kitchen. Not that Mrs. Bundy could have cared less, seeing as she was still concentrating on Oprah. 

"I love you, you love me," Heero and Wufei chorused together, unaware of what they were doing due to their tranquilizer high. Skipping around in pink and lace, the two boys threw into a giant mixing bowl whatever they could get their hands on, which included, amongst others, egg shells, hardened chewing gum stuck under the sink, pink icing, sour milk left over from last year's Home Ec. class, and even a, um, 'moist towelette', as Duo would put it. Keep in mind that all this was happening while Heero and Wufei were happily quoting songs composed by none other than the wise, the great, the legendary...Barney the purple stuffed dinosaur!   
"I feel pretty, so very pretty," Heero and Wufei trilled out, having switched from Barney to Broadway as they dumped unpeeled grapes into their mixture, while the other students openly gawked at them and began to slowly inch away from their workstation. 

* * *

"So, Wufei, like, what's the next step for baking our totally awesome sugar cake?" Heero shrilled nasally in a high-pitched valley boy voice.   
"Oh, like, it says here to bake the totally awesome sugar cake at four hundred degrees for one hour," Wufei sang back, looking like he might just burst into giggles at any given second.   
"That is, like, so totally unnecessary," Heero pouted. "I, like, have a totally awesome idea."   
"I'm sure you, like, totally do," Wufei tee heed out, dancing around and unwittingly doing the grind, while the other students (particularly the female ones) stared in openmouthed shock. Heero, meanwhile, grinning like a valley boy idiot, giggled out, "Why don't we just totally reduce the time by, like, half, and bake the totally awesome sugar cake at eight hundred degrees for, like, half an hour?"   
"That is, like, so totally an awesome idea," Wufei trilled, as he adjusted the oven settings. Tapping his chin, the Chinese boy leaned back thoughtfully and mused, "Hmm...what to do in the meantime while we wait for this, like, totally awesome sugar cake to bake?"   
Heero got a maniacal grin on his face as he turned to Wufei and sang out, "Oh, I know what to do." Wufei got an equally psychotic grin, before the two of them burst into a stunning rendition of Summer Lovin'. 

Twenty-five minutes later, Heero and Wufei paused suddenly in the screeching butchering of what was already a cheesy song in Wind Beneath My Wings, as their sedative-induced high wore off. The duo froze dead in their tracks, and gaped openmouthed at their frilly pink aprons and poofy white chef's hats, then turned to stare at each other. Flushed and uncomfortable, Heero and Wufei coughed and cleared their throats longer than necessary, before reaching a mutual agreement that they would never, eeeeever (not to quote Mr. Jericho, or anything) talk about this particular incident again.   
"So...what exactly do you think we did while we were, you know," Wufei mumbled, scuffing his shoe in the linoleum tiles.   
"While we were knocked up on sedatives?" Heero finished for him. Wufei nodded, and the two struggled to remember. However, it wasn't too long before they remembered, and as twin expressions of horror graced the two G-boys' faces, the oven, which had already been dangerously on the edge of bursting, promptly let out a high-pitched whistle and exploded. 

BOOM!   
Cough, cough, sputter, sputter, whine about injustice. Heero and Wufei, their faces streaked with soot and gloppy cake batter, blinked in the dust and debris, before realizing that they'd literally blown the roof off the room. Around them, the other students were gaping in shock at the two newcomers--they seemed to be doing that a lot lately--all covered with exploded cake batter and black smoke to a certain degree. At the head of the classroom, Mrs. Bundy, her poofy red hair streaked with black soot and gooey batter, continued to watch Oprah, unaware that anything had happened. 

* * *

Heero and Wufei, still sporting their pink, lacy aprons which read, I'm The Chef, So Kiss Me! and Come And Get It, Boys!, respectively, headed off into the men's room to get cleaned up. They came to a stop in front of the first restroom they spotted, which had numerous colorful graffiti sprayed on its door, amongst which Le Hetero Jock's Corner O' Pissing was scrawled boldly across the front in red and black. The duo shrugged, before pushing their way into the men's room, not thinking twice of the rather, erm, suggestive messages printed across their frilly pink aprons, ready to wash up. Fifteen seconds later, they were promptly chased out of the restroom by a hoard of furious, sneering football players, wondering why exactly the jocks were so mad at them. Heero and Wufei gave dual sighs as they ran from the sneering football jocks. First day of school, and they had already succeeded in blowing up the Home Ec. class, turn cooking into a _very_ badly-sung musical, and get chased around by beefed-up football guys. Oh, hell yeah, their school year was off to a _great_ start. 


	4. Duo Snores, Trowa Faints, And Quatre Suf...

*Ugh, I feel like such a procrastinator for not having updated for so long! I'm sorry! But, seriously though, I had a good excuse...I was too busy gushing over Creed's newest album (Scott Stapp is soooo gorgeous--NOT that that has any influence over why I like Creed so much, of course, coughcoughshuffleshuffleclearsthroat). So, anyway, I was too busy squealing over the newest Creed album--and yes, it takes me two weeks to obsess over a new album, like that's so weird--and haven't really updated very much. Well, I've stopped gushing over Creed and Scott Stapp--for the time being, anyway--and have now posted the latest chapter to Gundam High. Enjoy!* 

* * *

Over at the Sex Ed. classroom, Mr. Bundy finished writing something on the board, and turned around to face the class.   
"Now remember kids," he began seriously. "Just say no! Sex leads to marriage, which leads to children, which leads to you working in a women's shoestore for the rest of your life, which leads to a slow and painful death, which leads to the Red Reaper, which leads to..."   
*SNORE*   
Mr. Bundy paused in his tirade, blinking at having been so rudely interrupted, before shrugging it off and continuing.   
"...Which leads to making deals with the Devil, which leads to wife and kids joining you in Hell, which leads to eternity of torture, which leads to pesky neighbors going to Hell with you, which leads to rigged football game against the likes of King Kong and such, which leads to..." he ranted on, when suddenly...   
*SNORE*   
"...Ahem! Which leads to family and neighbors as your teammates, which leads to you getting squashed by the Devil's henchmen, which leads to serious headache, ouch, ouch, ouch, which leads to you looking like an idiot, which leads to..."   
*SNORE* 

Having been interrupted by the third time, Mr. Bundy, who needed an intake of oxygen anyway (unless he wanted to go Wufei's way), abruptly stopped his ranting and glared in the direction from which the loud snores where coming from--specifically, Duo's seat. He cleared his throat loudly.   
*SNORE*   
Irritated, Mr. Bundy cleared his throat even louder.   
*SNORE*   
More irritated (Wow, I must really be impressing you all with my vocabulary, huh?), Mr. Bundy took a ruler and rapped it against the blackboard. He waited for a few seconds.   
*SNORE*   
Shrugging, as if to say, What the hell, Mr. Bundy balled up the day's lesson plans and hurled it with a vengeance at Duo's head. Smack! The wadded up paper landed solidly against Duo's head. As the paper ball bounced around, Duo snapped up with a start and instinctively threw the nearest object at his assailant. Fortunately for Mr. Bundy, it was a harmless projectile, unfortunately for the teacher, however, it turned out to be the half-eaten banana that he'd given him (it was an especially large banana, and Duo couldn't finish it--he never did quite figure out just exactly why all those girls were giggling and pointing to his half-eaten banana, anyway). 

"Ow," Mr. Bundy muttered, as the banana landed with a loud squish against his forehead. Duo looked sheepish, and mumbled, "Um...sorry?" He glanced around at the incredulous stares he was getting from the other students.   
"What? What did I do?" Duo asked, blinking innocent violet eyes at the rest of his classmates. Mr. Bundy absently wiped banana mush from his brow and growled, "For starters, you were snoring in class!'   
Duo huffed, and looked offended.   
"I do _not_ snore! I'm much too pretty to do such a thing!" he spouted, looking rather insulted to be accused of such a thing. Mr. Bundy raised an eyebrow.   
"You're right," he, surprisingly, agreed with Duo's statement. "Humans snore. Elephants trumpet. _You_ boom box!" 

* * *

Cue over to Room 3.00, where Mr. Jericho and his very, very shiny black pants was (were?) pacing back and forth, microphone in hand. Trowa, meanwhile, got dizzy of following his rapid movements with his eyes, and quickly stopped, discreetly holding his head.   
"The way to perfect mic skills is simple," Mr. Jericho was ranting up in the front of the classroom. "All you have to do really is make fun of a girl's breast implants and call her a ho, and you'll be a hit with your audience, whom you've made sure to dub Jerichoholics."   
"Um, Mr. Jericho?" A hand went up. Mr. Jericho glared impatiently.   
"What is it, junior?" he demanded irritably. The voice spoke up timidly, "Isn't it kind of rude to accuse a girl of having breast implants?"   
Mr. Jericho looked at his student like he'd just grown two heads.   
"Oh, and I suppose you're one of those sissy boys who thinks drinking milk is good for the human body," he snorted scornfully.   
"But Mr. Jericho, drinking milk _is_ good for the human body..."   
Mr. Jericho gawked.   
"Whatever. You must be one of Coach Angle's kids," he harrumphed, clearing his throat loudly. "So, anyway, as I was saying, before this little assclown here so rudely interrupted me, Speech and Drama is really simple, if you just open your mouth and don't SHUT THE HELL UP!" He waited dramatically. A couple of crickets chirped, as the students all gaped openmouthed at him. Mr. Jericho cleared his throat again, before continuing.   
"Yeah. So, can I have a volunteer who'll get up here and talk?" Mr. Jericho glanced around expectantly. When nobody responded, he pointed at Trowa and said, "How about that little assclown over there with the weird hair?"   
Trowa's eyes bulged out. _Get up here and talk, _Mr. Jericho's words echoed eerily in his head. _Get up here and talk...get up here and talk...get up here and talk...and talk...and talk...and talk...and talk...talk...talk..._Trowa responded to this the only logical way he knew how: His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fainted. 

* * *

Quatre hated wrestling. Granted, he had only been doing it for, what, seven minutes, but you try to wrestle a hairy two-hundred-pound senior who's been held back for five consecutive years, with a broken neck and about a gallon of warm milk forced down your throat, and see how well you like wrestling! Of course, Quatre knew better than to judge wrestling merely by the way Coach Angle conducted his class...but still! His neck hurt like crazy--was it really necessary for the coach to break it with that sledgehammer that he'd borrowed from Mr. Helmsley?--and his smooth, creamy skin was now covered with sweaty, curly chest hairs from the senior he'd been pitted against. 

Coach Angle blew his whistle, and Quatre inwardly sighed with relief. His small size had proven to be a major disadvantage, and he'd been dominated--in more ways than one--by the hairy senior who'd been held back for five years because of his utter stupidity throughought the entire 3-2-2 match up. Or rather, mis-match up. But either way, the wrestling part was over for now, and Quatre no longer had to worry about having to fight off two hundred pounds of hairy blubber jiggling all over his face. There were some times where it had gotten so bad that Quatre had seriously considered fluttering to the floor and pretending to have a heart attack. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch from the truth, anyway, but Quatre had fought against the urge to pretend to have a heart attack and plowed on, withstanding gelatinous blubber and sweaty hair and all. And he had done it. Quatre Raberba Winner had survived a wrestling match, without having to give up and pretend to have a heart attack! Quatre felt elated, he felt like he was on top of the world, he felt...   
"Okay, Winner, after the milk break, you go over and wrestle him." Coach Angle jerked his thumb toward a massive, four-hundred-pound Samoan with enough armpit hair to make a coat out of. Like he was thinking, Quatre felt like he was about to go into seizure. No! No! Quatre shook his head. No, he mustn't give in to the desire to collapse onto the floor and pretend to have a heart attack! It was immoral, it was unjust, it was deceptive...The Samoan senior rumbled his way over, and Quatre's eyes widened when he saw all the blubber jiggling underneath the sweaty coat of hair. Quatre promptly dropped down onto the ground, and started pretending away. 

* * *

Back in the Sex Ed. classroom, Mr. Bundy had resumed ranting and writing on a blackboard, when a glob of paper hit the nape of his neck.   
"Ow!" the teacher grumbled, before continuing writing. Minutes later...   
"Ow!"   
A few more minutes passed. And then...   
"Ow!"   
"Ow!"   
"Ow!"   
Mr. Bundy, and several of the students sitting in front of Duo, cringed as they were continuously pelted by a shower of paper balls. Duo, meanwhile, was ignoring the cries of outrage springing up in front of and around him, and instead concentrated on making more paper balls.   
"Ow!"   
"Ow!"   
"Ow!"   
Duo was viciously crumpling up a particularly large piece of notebook paper, when he noticed the shadows that had suddenly washed over his desk. Looking up, Duo saw four mean-looking two-hundred-pound seniors glowering down at him, each lugging handfuls of balled-up binder paper.   
"These yours, twerp?" one of the seniors growled. Duo smiled cheekily, and graciously took the papers back.   
"Hey, thanks for bringing these back for me, especially considering how I never planned on retrieving them myself," he chirped brightly. He was about to turn around, when one of the bulky seniors slammed a fist down on Duo's desk.   
"We're not done yet, little man," he snarled. Duo huffed, and looked insulted.   
"Who're you calling little, you...you...you big meanie?" he pouted, puffing out his chest in a display of machismo.   
"That's it!" One of the seniors grabbed Duo, locking his arms behind his back, while his buddy wound up and took good aim with his fist.   
"Erm...what are you going to do with that?" Duo squeaked out nervously, before the senior threw the heavy punch. Fortunately for Duo, though, he ducked just in time, and could only watch in fascination as the first guy slugged his buddy. A cracking sound filled the room, as something small and white went flying through the air and landed against Mr. Bundy's head.   
"Ow! Mah toofsh!" the guy that had been restraining Duo hollered, and he and his former buddy promptly started going at it. Duo shook his head in disgust.   
"Man, you totally scream like a girl!" he scoffed, looking down at the scuffling seniors, as he started to sit down again. Just then, someone yanked Duo back by the braid, and the American boy gulped as he suddenly remembered that there had been more than just two in the group of pissed seniors. The guy who'd jerked Duo around wound up with his fist and swung, and it was now Duo's turn to totally scream like a girl. 

* * *

*Ouch, I know that was short and sucked really bad, and I'm REALLY sorry for this chapter! Ugh, guess I was far too lazy to write three different chapters, and just combined Duo, Trowa, and Quatre into one big old messed up waste of space! *Cringes*. Anyways, I'm REALLY sorry for turning out such a bad chapter, but I promise I'll make it up with my next GW fic: Attack Of The Justice-Crazed Self-Help Guru. The first chapter might not be up until January, though, since I'm occupied with writing a Creed fanfic (shameless self-promotion, I know). So, in the meantime, please put up with my half-assed antics at an attempt to finish Gundam High, and keep an eye out for Self-Help Guru--or the Creed fic, if you happen to be a fan (insert shameless plug). Bye for now ^_^* 


	5. Scheme Whilst Thou...Erm, Consume Fish S...

Ah, lunch time. As soon as the school clock dutifully struck noon each day, a collective sigh of relief from the student body could always be heard ringing across the hallways. And with good reason to. As things stood, the first G-boy to make his way to the cafeteria was none other than Heero. He stumbled out of Mr. J. Tribiani's Sex Education classroom, looking dazed and confused, and with one of Duo's, um, 'moist towelettes' sticking to his hair. Ignoring the snickers of the other students as they pointed at his hair and giggled, Heero dazedly tottered over to the lunch line, grabbed a tray filled to the brim with unappetizing fish sticks, soggy lima beans, and overcooked tater tots, and tripped his way toward the nearest table, scaring the blonde, over-lipsticked cheerleaders out of their seats with one good glare. Heero absently pulled the, um, 'moist towelette' out of his hair as he munched on a fish stick. 

The next G-boy to stumble into the cafeteria was Quatre--or rather, Quatre and his neck brace, thanks to Coach Angle with the sledgehammer that he'd borrowed from Mr. Helmsley. Quatre and his neck brace had come from the direction of Mr. Mulder's Science and Logic classroom, and wore a bizarre, brainwashed look in his wide blue-green eyes as he slumped down across from Heero.   
"The truth is out there," Quatre whispered ominously. Heero arched an eyebrow.   
"The truth is out there," Quatre repeated conspiratorially. "The truth is out there...the truth is out there...the truth is out there..."   
His fish sticks were untouched. 

Third up was Wufei, who bolted out of Ms. Geller's Sewing classroom, wailing like a madman and screaming something about being subjected to cutting up women's lingerie and filling them with potpourri.   
"Wait! I still have to teach you how to fold up your new pink satin boxers the most efficient way!" Ms. Geller's high-pitched voice called out after Wufei's flailing figure.   
"Wah!" Came Wufei's prompt respond, as he continued to run around in circles around the G-boys' table. 

Trowa's subsequent entrance wasn't much quieter than Wufei's, as the poor guy stumbled dizzily out of Ms. McMahon's Song and Music Classroom, looking dangerously on the edge of passing out. Before he slammed the door shut, the distinct sounds of Wind Beneath My Wings could be heard being screeched out from Ms. McMahon's room, and both Heero and Wufei had to wince as it reminded the two of them of their little musical during Home Ec. Trowa tottered and tripped his way clumsily over to the G-boys' table, before collapsing on a chair next to Quatre, barely avoiding smashing his face into the tartar sauce. 

Last to arrive was Duo, who'd gotten his change jammed in the vending machine when trying to get a bag of Cheetos after Mr. Austin's exhilarating Classical English course. Duo hopped and scrambled his way over to the table, weighed down with books, binders, and about half a dozen bags of Cheetos.   
"Yay, I love lunch!" Duo squealed. His face scrunched up, as he struggled to remember something from Mr. Austin's lesson. "Oh, yeah! My name is Duo Maxwell! What? I said my name is Duo Maxwell! What? What?! I love lunch! What? I said I love lunch! What?"   
"Duo, would you please SHUT THE HELL UP?!"   
Hmm, it looked like Mr. Jericho had had more influence over Trowa than both of them had realized, as Trowa mumbled something about how if Duo were a girl, he'd make fun of 'her' breast implants. 

The G-boys ate in relative silence for a while, their faces expressing various degrees of disgust as they tasted the fish sticks and lima beans (although Duo seemed to have taken a liking to the tater tots), with Quatre mumbling, "The truth is out there," continuously to himself and Duo ranting, "What?" every other second. Finally, after a few minutes, Duo got bored of the silence and broke it by asking, "So, what're your afternoon classes? What? I said what are your afternoon classes?" Heero, Trowa, and Wufei occupied themselves by shooting murderous death glares at Duo, and thus Quatre took it upon himself to examine their schedules. His brows furrowed in interest, as he read each G-boy's schedule silently to himself, then began the unpleasant task of informing Heero, Trowa, and Wufei of their classes.   
"Hmm...Heero, it looks like you have Fashion and Clothing with Ms. R. Green," Quatre spoke up in a tiny voice. Heero's eyes bugged out upon hearing those words.   
"Minna o korosu!" the former pilot of Wing Zero jumped up and screamed. Quatre winced, absently rubbing his ear--despite the difficulty of doing so with the neck brace obstructing the way--before mumbling, "Um, Wufei, it looks like you're going to Ballet with Ms. Solomon after lunch."   
Wufei promptly stopped running around in circles and ranting about women's lingerie and potpourri at hearing that.   
"KISAMAAAAA!!!" the Chinese lunatic--um, I mean, Chinese ex-pilot--screamed at the top of his lungs, before desperately grabbing the lima beans on his tray and attempting to build a noose out of them in an effort to die an honorable death rather than to have his manliness challenged by prancing around in a bright pink tutu. Quatre's eyes brightened as he skimmed down Trowa's schedule.   
"Hey, look, Trowa. It seems as if the administration made a mistake with your schedule, and now they're making you take Song and Music twice! But don't worry. I have the same class with you, and after lunch, we'll go to Song and Music class, taught by Mr. Christian," he chirped brightly. Finally, a class with somebody he knew! Trowa, unfortunately, didn't take the news as well as Quatre did, as his eyes rolled back into his head for the second time that day, and he fainted dead away. 

* * *

"...And in local news, the prestigious Infinity Academy in Greenwich, Connecticut, was mysteriously burned down to the ground last night. So far, witness descriptions vary, but they all agree on one thing: the culprit was a trio of males, possibly students at the elite private school, and one of them was described as having a peculiar hairstyle. Connecticut authorities are working around the clock to capture the party held responsible for this arson, but there is very little--if any--evidence left after the fire. In lighter news, singing sensation Whitney Lears is set to marry long-time sweetheart Dustin T. Lake..."   
Quatre switched off the television set from his seat in the private Winner Family space shuttle, and sank back into a sea of soft leather with a content smile on his face. In the seat across from him, Duo was stuffing gooey, cheesy nachos into his mouth, engrossed in the newest shoot-'em-up flick playing on the monitor in front of him. In the back of the shuttle, Wufei's distinct voice could be heard ranting about how the Barton weakling should have just chopped off his hair before the 'mission', while Trowa could be heard repeatedly screeching out, "Junior, would you please SHUT THE HELL UP!!!" while Heero was mumbling to the air around him, "Hey...how _you_ doin'?" 

* * *

~ The End ~ 


	6. A Lil' Announcement

~ Announcement/Poll ~ 

Heh, I guess the last time I uploaded, my message didn't show up or something. Anyways, I just wanted to add this little note to the tail of Gundam High (since FF.net won't let authors post announcements separately, sniff, sniff). Basically, I'm gonna take a week-long family vacation for Christmas, which means I'll be forced to go on hiatus for a while, but as soon as I come back, I want to make it up to you guys. I know I promised to write a new GW fic called Attack Of The Justice-Crazed Self-Help Guru in the little note at the end of the third chapter of Gundam High, but then while I was out Christmas shopping, a little idea suddenly came to me, about the G-boys (minus Quatre since he's rich) all being forced to get jobs. And since I'm uncertain as to which fic to write first, I'm going to let you, the wonderful readers, decide. 

Okay, the fic that I promised to upload, Self-Help Guru, is basically about how Wufei gets shipped off to a hypnosis academy by mistake (he got on the wrong train when Sally forced him to go to anger management camp). So thereby, an enlightened Wufei comes back to the G-boy mansion and decides to use hypnosis to bring justice to this world and make Duo and Quatre into manly men like himself (Heero and Trowa are already manly in his opinion, and besides, Wufei doesn't exactly want to piss off either of them). But Wufei, in typical Wufei fashion, gets his hypnosis spells all mixed up, and Duo ends up infatuated with Noin, while poor Quatre thinks that he's a tobacco-chawin' redneck. 

The pros of Attack Of The Justice-Crazed Self-Help Guru: we get to see Duo attempt to serenade Noin, and Quatre running around thinking that he's a beer-swilling, foul-mouthed, finger-flipping redneck. 

But then there's the as-of-right-now-still-unnamed job hunt fic (any suggestions? ^_^), where basically, Quatre goes off on a long business trip, and the G-boys can't seem to find his stash of platinum cards. Therefore, they're forced to do the unthinkable, and actually get jobs (dun dun dun!). 

The pros of still-unnamed-job-hunt-fic: we get to see Heero as Bozo the Clown, Trowa as a ballet instructor (in a really tight-fitting little suit, I might add), and Wufei as a marriage counselor. Duo will probably just bounce from job to job (shoe salesman, mime, and, if I'm feeling evil enough, one of those people dressed up as silly-looking hot dogs or lobsters parading in front of restaurants. Mwahahahaha!) 

So, which fic do you guys want to see first? Please vote in your reviews. 'Cause if you don't, I'm gonna write a Relena fic! I am eeeeeevil. Indeed. ^_^ 


End file.
